When the judge asked the boy what it was he owned that meant a lot to him the teenager said it was his games system. The judge told the youth it would show him what it was like to have something he valued taken from him.

Now, this is all well and good until Belfast’s biggest, baddest burglars acquire decoy valued items, possibly through the medium of theft. Or simply profess to prize items to which, in reality, they ascribe no worth: ‘Well, you’re free to go, but we’ll have to impound the contents of your vacuum cleaner bag, Mr O’Liable.’

However, on the off-chance that this kind of punishment does work, it could extend neatly to perpetrators of more serious crimes. ‘Who’s your favourite person?’ we might ask convicted murderers. ‘It’s your husband, is it? Yeah? …Sure? Have him killed.’

Or, for young rapists: ‘What’s your favourite possession?’

‘My BMX, m’lud.’

Written by Tom and Statto

July 5, 2011 at 19:40

Today’s Oxford Mail takes the genuinely distressing plight of local care home residents terrorised by late-night louts, and lets a frankly absurd offhand comment whip it into a hyperbolic frenzy as only a local tabloid can.

ELDERLY and disabled Witney residents are fighting to stop drunken revellers urinating and having sex outside their homes. One described it as like ‘living in World War Three’.

World War Three. World. War. Three. The dark fascination of which conceived so much great literature, the hypothetical avoidance of which inspired countless political compromises, the terror of which dogged generations of Cold War citizens…but no nuclear holocaust would it have seen, no unspeakable genocide or unforgivable firebombing. No, it would’ve filled previously-peaceful suburbia with drunkards shagging and pissing. But, what’s this? Might there be a solution to the worst and possibly last conflict that mankind may ever know?

After contacting the Oxford Mail last week, the ‘war’ could be coming to an end, as Cottsway Housing Association, which owns the sheltered housing complex, has put up a gate.

Who knew? We should never have invested in Trident, the invasion of Afghanistan, or terahertz scanners that strip passengers—sorry, terrorists—naked at airports. We can keep our freedoms and tear down the military–industrial complex: all it takes is a few wooden planks, some screws and about half an hour, and an anti-bonking prophylactic can be assembled and deployed. And watching people in coitus, as agreed by Internet users everywhere, is just as bad as nation-razing conflict. And, surely, stopping outdoor sexing is easier than stopping out-and-out warfare. So let’s go after the low-hanging fruit, shall we? Let’s force them back into the undies in which they belong. And certainly not tweet a picture of them to a young lady. No way.

Christopher Deane, 70, [who had] likened the trouble to ‘World War Three’, said of previous weekends: ‘At three o’clock in the morning there were people fighting, making sex, and peeing.’

Christopher Deane, 70, should be just about old enough to remember the harrowing experience of WWII. Was it over-enthusiastic outdoor nookie that destroyed Coventry, Dresden and Hiroshima? If so, someone should’ve sent Hitler the memo: Probably not worth shooting yourself over, mate. It’s just some people making sex.